The World Is What You Make Of It
by SpiritWell
Summary: They love the same way they hate, caught in a cycle of unending agony, desiring that which they won't accept. When Toby admits that he wouldn't MIND being a goblin, the world falls down. Can Sara see past logic to discover what lies behind icy blue eyes?


The world is the shadow of reality. What we think we perceive may not be what we actually perceive in the realm of the imagi-nation or of the physical form. What is the shadow but a copy of the original form? What are the mortals but a recreation of that which is greater, the sleep state awakening a piece of the most powerful potential? Humans were never meant to be perfect. Those who are born even close to such an absolute spend their entire lives in maddened misery, defeated by the perilous misconducts of their lesser brethren, bound to a label of insanity by those who cannot believe what they do not comprehend. Sarah Williams understands this. She has understood it for the entirety of her twenty year old life. The way the earth shakes when everyone is standing still, the shadows of people's intentions left behind like a stain on the carpet. The way that the walls of the ever present labyrinth shadow every step she has ever seen anyone take. Sarah knows that He stands sentinel over it all. She knows that the world would fall were there not to be a Goblin King. She knows, also, that were she to describe this to any of her underlings, they would either burn her as a witch or, in their desperation to comprehend, burn in the flames of their own logic.

Sarah Williams is not, and has never been normal. Once she had the potential to be, but that chance was lost one night in her 15th year, when she wished away a child and her wish was granted. Sarah went through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. When dreams did not work, she used logic, and found that worked nicely. In this other world of goblins masquerading as mortals logic did not work so nicely. Logic was a different thing when one was in the realms of magic. Logic in the labyrinth was laced with dreams, wistfulness, and a hint of peach. Logic in the human world was concrete, grey and tasteless, like those pills Karen had convinced her to take, pills that went down so horribly that they made the normally quiet Sarah gag. She tried to be good, for Toby's sake. Sanity was no longer an option for Sarah Williams, but the pretense of sanity was. She could pretend to enjoy the company of those boys her age or older who had taken a liking to her, she could giggle falsely over the fact that her first time was in the back seat of a car. She could go to school, get good grades and be normal, but only for so long. The pretext of sanity was wearing thin, and in these past few years Sarah's true form had begun to show through. It worried Karen and terrified Sarah's father, but Toby did not seem bewildered in the slightest. He was the only one who understood Sarah, and she clung to him for salvation. Six year old Toby knew the thrill of the underground. He had desired to become a Goblin, though he would never say so to poor Sarah. She would be unable to go on, were she to know that she had gone through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered to fight the man she loved for the child who did not desire a rescue.

Toby knew that she loved the strange man who had been his captor. Sometimes in the middle of the night he would see a light down the hall, hear a quiet voice drifting towards his room. He would get up from the bed and creep down the hall to his sister's room, knowing that he would see her there, brushing her hair in front of the mirror and whispering words that were branded onto her soul. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered," she would whisper wistfully, the croak in her voice making the words ominous, "I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great"  
After the night that she had saved him, Sarah had never said those words. You know, the ones that came next. She never said the other dangerous words either, true, but Toby knew she would tell him the spell that would send him back before she would again utter those words that had destroyed a dream utterly and completely. Not that He was gone, of course. Toby knew He was still present. He would never go away, for either of them. Toby had a chance to live a normal life, though. After all, HE hadn't been the one to fall for the Goblin King as well as his realm. No, that privilege had been reserved for his sister, a blood relation with whom he had very little in common, for all they had both been in His labyrinth.

These were dangerous phrases, and Toby was sure if he got them he would need to take care not to misuse them like his Mom might. Somehow, though, neither the phrase to send him away or the one that brought him back held much weight for young Toby. The word he desired, the word he craved, was a name. He had a title, for sure, one his sister sometimes said in her sleep. Goblin King. He also had a story, which she had gifted him with at the age of two. He hadn't really begun to understand till four, and even at six he was only now figuring out the implications of this Goblin King's existence in his sister's dreams.

Sarah's little brother was almost jealous of this stranger. Sarah had always doted on Toby, ever since the night she liked to refer to as the incident. She had been the one to clean his cuts, dry his tears and tell his stories. To know that someone else was first in her heart was a very hard thing for little Toby to take, but he understood it. Were he to be a girl too, he would have probably liked the man from his childhood as well. Who could avoid being enchanted by such a being? Toby wondered how Sarah had managed to get him back. He never asked, though. He knew she sometimes regretted it, late in the night, when she would cry out something quiet and incomprehensible. Toby would always find salty tears on her pillow the next morning. They dried very slowly, much more slowly than ordinary tears. Toby supposed that was because these were important and that to remember them was a necessity.

Over the months, Sarah had continued to worsen. Toby awoke every night to the sound of her tears, and his Mommy said something about expulsion. It sounded like emulsion, that big kid term that Toby had found in one of Sarah's old schoolbooks. He didn't know what it meant, exactly, but it seemed ominous enough. And even without the approaching emulsion, Toby could not resist worrying. As a six years and three quarters old kid, Toby was on his way to becoming the man of the house, and Dad had told him that meant taking care of the female residents as much as they wanted to be taken care of. He wasn't sure Sarah would want help, but she needed it. At least she needed something to listen. So, on the eve of his seventh birthday, after everyone had come and gone, Toby approached Sarah. She was sitting on the couch near all of the balloons and colored papers, wearing a party hat that was ridiculously small. Her eyes were weary, but she forced a smile when Toby jumped onto the couch to give his 'bestest big sister' a hug.

"How did you like the party, Sarah?" he asked eagerly, eyes shining brightly. He really DID want to help her out, but he HAD know what she thought of his gifts and stuff. That was rudimentary birthday protocol, after all.

"It was lovely, Tobe," she reassured the little fellow, lifting him up into her lap and ruffling his hair, "You have a ton of awesome friends and a great year ahead of ya. Congratulations on being seven, kid. What's your birthday wish?"

"I want you to tell me a story." Toby said with a sigh, curling up against her chest. She always had the best stories when birthdays came around. The other ones were good, but birthday stories were the ones Toby knew he'd never forget. They were the important kind.

"What kind of story do you want?" she asked with a smile, settling in for a lengthy evening. Toby never settled for one story, especially not on birthdays. She might have to tell twenty or thirty before he was satisfied.

"I want a story about the Goblin King." he said. Sarah paled, but forced herself to remain cheerful. She had told stories of Him before, of course. How could she not? She'd skipped the important bits, of course, and made a lot up, but she'd still told Toby about the man who had almost taken him away. "What kind of story about the Goblin King?" she inquired, knowing that the answer would be one that could cause her to regret having ever accepted the idea of telling a story about the Goblin King in the first place.

"A true one, Sarah," Toby said, looking up into her eyes, "The one you don't wanna tell me. The one that makes your eyes all dull whenever you see an owl, the one that made you buy that funny clock with thirteen hours on it." There was a long period of silence as Sarah sat there, trembling. Toby tried to be patient, but he couldn't, and soon gave in to the urge to scream. "I WANT THAT ONE, SARAH!" he screeched, cheeks turning a ruddy shade of rouge, "I WANT A REAL ONE, FOR KEEPS! I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT-"

Sarah put a hand over Toby's mouth and he instantly went silent. Her eyes began to sparkle merrily, but the action seemed more routine than anything else. "A real story about the Goblin King..." she whispered softly. "Well, I've never told one of those. How's about one that He has a lead role in? It's called the Labyrinth."

Toby paused. "You told me that one," he said in an accusatory voice, "And I don't remember much of a King."

Sarah chuckled in response, tugging at Toby's ear. "Of course you don't, Toby. He shouldn't be part of the story like He was. He wasn't like He was supposed to be. He was strange, powerful, breathtaking, and interesting beyond belief. How to explain it..."

"He was the bad guy, right?" Toby encouraged, sticking his thumb in his mouth. He'd outgrown this habit for the most part, but sometimes still did it when Sarah got nervous.

"I suppose," she acquiesced, "But He didn't stay that way. He got to be something else, after a while. A different role, but I don't know what to call it. It's never been in one of your stories before. It's... an interesting role. No clear cut lines or boundaries. Untouchable, in a way."

"If we find someone who's like that one day," he said, a hint of a sparkle appearing in his eyes, "Will you point them out to me?"

"You won't find someone like the King easily," Sarah said with a sigh, "One of a kind. The man and the role. But I'm certainly not here to try and explain Him to you." She ignored the whimper of protest at this, "I'm here to tell you a story, little Goblin-kinder, so shush and listen."

Toby, obedient for once in his life, snuggled up to his sister and settled in for a long story. She wove him a tale she'd told many times before, but now she told it properly, Goblin King and all. No real names, certainly, and winces whenever He was mentioned, but she still shared it all with Toby. He deserved a good story, and as he grew older his tastes changed. Sarah's stories needed to grow with Toby, or he would abandon them, push them aside for more conventional games. Sarah couldn't have that. She might not want anyone wished away, but she didn't want Them forgotten either. As such, Sarah was merciless with herself, telling everything in detail except for the Ballroom dream, which she skimmed over, spending only a few sentences on the subject. Then Sarah was once again up and running, her tale turning in circles, recalcitrant thing that it was. Somehow Toby followed her ramblings to the escher room and the ensuing battle. This time, though, he met a new character. Not a villain with a black moustache and evil laughter like on Saturday morning cartoons, but one whose smirk was sometimes forced, one whose laugh was more of a drawl than something comical. He saw a villain who wasn't being villainy enough, and he saw that maybe the villain had been saddened by his loss for more than one reason.

"He's been impossible to reason with, I hear," Sarah said quietly, "A little dwarf told me that he silently plots against the girl and wastes away in his desperation to make her suffer. He hurts himself badly and is the worse for it, which makes this a sad story for anyone involved." She sighed and rose, realizing that this story didn't have a happy ending. She contemplated making one up last minute then let the idea fall. Toby needed to learn that stories didn't always end with happily ever after, and Sarah didn't feel like making up a happy ending for a story that always made her want to cry. Besides, her little brother looked sound asleep. Chuckling softly, she gently shook him awake and helped him get upstairs and into his room, still blinking with exhaustion. She tucked him in under the covers, turned out the lights and turned to flee.

"Sarah," Toby murmured sleepily, "I have a question."

"What is it, my little man?" she asked quietly, "Something to do with the King?"

"Sort of..." Toby murmured, yawning. "The girl. Did she love Him?"

There was a moment of absolute silence. What could she say? What could anyone have said? Sarah, at this point in time, gave the best answer she could. You cannot blame her, readers, if the answer was strange. If you had stood there with Him in that ballroom dream, perhaps you might understand a little better why Sarah closed her eyes and let a tear slide down her cheek. You might understand why she sighed softly, the way only a lover can sigh, and reluctantly murmured an affirmative response.

"Yes, Toby. She loved Him very much. She still does, for all I know. She probably always will. It does not matter, though." Then she slid outside and closed the door behind her. Stiff as a wooden board, she made her way back to her room, and in a gust of emotion dropped to the bed, grabbing a pillow to stifle wrenching sobs. It didn't matter, didn't matter at all. Toby was more important than any man, and she had made her choice a long time ago. There was no going back, no matter how much she might want to. Sarah belonged here in this world as He belonged in his. She hated it, the feeling that the horrid normalcy of routine was creeping up on her like a menacing night beast. This world was so ordinary that Sarah was likely to become normal one day, if only to fit in. She didn't want to, though. She wanted to live magic, to breathe magic, to be magic. She wanted a fantasy world that was everything she'd ever desired. Thing was, Sarah had had it. She had been in it, and she had made friends. She had even had the opportunity to stay forever, if she would only give up her little brother.

God, how she wished she'd wished away someone else. Karen, maybe. Or that math teacher who was always on her case. Little Toby had been sweet despite his screaming, and he was a defenseless baby. Sarah had felt obligated to get him back, and forced herself to stick to the script. Toby was so happy here as a mortal. Sarah was sure of that, and that was all that kept her sane. She had done the right thing by him, at least. Toby didn't hate her, even if the rest of the world viewed her as a lunatic. The Goblin King may have decided she was not worth His time, but she still had her brother. He was enough. He had to be enough. If he wasn't enough, she might as well commit suicide then and there to save Jareth the trouble.

Sarah tensed. She hadn't said it out loud, but she was still wary. His name held power, and she was terrified at the thought of Him randomly appearing and killing her because she'd accidentally let him into the house. Hoggle had said something about names having power, and she believed it. She curled into a tiny ball on the bed, wiping her eyes dry, and prayed that thoughts didn't count in terms of calling Him back. She didn't want Him hurting, but she didn't think she could stand to see the beautiful God whose affections she had lost forever. She loved him, and she would never see him again because of her fear. Oh, such a sad love! 


End file.
